


Bitter and Sick

by CruelKittenThesis



Category: Cain Saga and Godchild
Genre: Angst, Cassian centric, Eating Disorder, Gore, Hurt/Comfort, Kaori Yuki Secert Santa 2015, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Sexual Abuse (implied), psychical abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-11
Updated: 2015-12-11
Packaged: 2018-05-06 03:34:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5401454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CruelKittenThesis/pseuds/CruelKittenThesis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short Jizabel/Cassian hurt/comfort fic written for the 2015 Kaori Yuki Secert Santa. Jizabel is not okay, and Cassian knows it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bitter and Sick

**Author's Note:**

> It's been awhile since I've read the manga, so I hope I haven't gotten any facts wrong. Written for Moonlightcaughtyoureye, I hope she enjoys. Title is taken from the song, Bitter and Sick, by One Two. The song reference is supposed to refer to Jizabel and Alexis' relationship.

_He had disobeyed. Sun hot and red, a blistering wound in the sky. Large hands dragging down, the ground is sharp, it digs into him. A white lamb squirms, trapped in the overlooking roses. Yellow, sickly, dripping with poison, watching and laughing without faces. The boy cries out in pain. The lamb cries in pain, as the roses wrap themselves tighter around it, cutting through the soft flesh, shredding it. Teeth bite into the boy. The intestines and organs fall freely, decorating the hateful vines. He is sobbing. In the distance, a black lamb roams freely, well fed and groomed. The boy's clothes are in tatters. The bell on black lamb chimes. The boy's body is broken, blood flowing from terrible places. It's eyes are beautiful._

 

Jizabel's eyes fluttered open and closed, tears dropping In the light of the room, from the weight of the dream. There was something touching him, warm and comforting, on his face and his hair. 

 

A voice spoke, "Shh, it's okay. It's okay, it's only a dream," It paused, "Please wake up." 

 

Jizabel blinked in confusion. Cassian was sitting by his bed. Cassian was touching him. Cassian's small hands, covered in scars, and frequently covered in blood, were stroking his hair, innocent and cautiously. 

 

"Why are you here?" Jizabel asked, pushing himself up, and wincing from pain, only making it halfway. 

 

Cassian looked down, not wanting to mention what he knew had happened, had happened many times before, and would happen again, something he couldn't stop, only wait idly, as the vileness from it continued to rot Jizabel. He chose his words carefully, "You seemed distraught, and I wanted to make sure you were okay." He reached out arm, "Do you need a hand?"

 

Jizabel pushed Cassian's arm away, "I'm fine." They both knew he wasn't. 

 

"You're not," Cassian answered, offering his arm again. 

 

This time, Jizabel accepted, placing a hand on Cassian's arm, and pulling himself fully up. Blood, hot and red, was already beginning to show on the back of his top, ruining the white fabric beyond repair. Jizabel thought briefly, wondering if he should even bother getting up. He felt horrible, his entire body aching, every joint in pain. Still, he stood, his legs shaky, like a newborn lamb. 

 

"I ran a bath for you," Cassian gestured awkwardly. Taking his tiny hand on Jizabel's large one, he pulled him down the hall, like a child. Upon reaching the bathroom, he opened the door and pulled Jizabel inside, then, quickly, Cassian slipped out of the room, feeling much too uncomfortable to wait there. After hearing a splash of water, he let out a small sign, and walked to the kitchen, taking a glance back at the door every few steps, until he could no longer see it. 

 

Jizabel let his clothes fall of his body, like fresh snow stained with blood, wincing from the pain of the fresh cuts. The clothes were left in a heap, as he placed a foot into the water, before slowly entering the bath.

 

The water was warm, like the warmth of the sun on a spring day. Jizabel leaned into it, a dying flower craving sunshine. Water, so cleansing, washed away the blood, masking the sins of flesh, but Jizabel knew it could never reach the inside, clean his rotten organs or undo the sins, both wanted and forced. The warmth was a lie, a false promise of comfort, but still, it was better to live with the lie of warmth, than to die of frost bite, so he allowed himself to sit in the water, enough to feel some comfort from the cold. 

 

...........................

 

 

Jizabel sat, wrapped in a robe far more expensive than any clothes Cassian had ever worn, sat at the table, and poked at a potato with his fork, not to eat it, just to move it around, like a spoiled child who disagrees with the menu given.

 

He looked delicate, the silvery strands on his hair catching the golden glow of the morning sun, but his hair was disheveled and and a few strands found their way onto his face. His skin was too pale, stretched over his too thin body. He looked like a beautiful angel, an angel who had been dragged out of heaven, who had every feather meticulous plucked one by one off his back, leaving bloody wounds and scabs. 

 

Cassian rubbed his hands together, soothing the small burns earned from cooking, and watching Jizabel with concern. He had worked hard on this breakfast, he knew Jizabel wouldn't eat on his own, knew he'd drag himself nearly to his limit, until that bastard of a father would guilt him into eating some large dish full of meat, telling him all about how the poor animal had died in pain, and its death would be a waste if he didn't eat it. Cassian wondered if Jizabel noticed there wasn't any meat. Part of him, a part he hated to admit the existence of, wished he would notice that he learned to cook, that he had made him food that could be consumed without self loathing. He wanted Jizabel to notice him, but he would never be noticed because to that broken man, that feeling did not exist. 

 

"Doctor, you really should eat something," Cassian spoke, after watching Jizabel slowly move food around the plate without attempting to eat a bite, "You're a doctor, so you know you need to eat."

 

Jizabel smiled, sweet and twisted as the angel of a false god, and stabbed at a egg with his fork, twisting in the center, the yellow bleeding violently over the rest of the food, drowning potatoes and sliced apples. He raised the fork to his mouth and licked at the yolk, "I'll kill him." In a tone almost happy sounding, he elaborated, "I'll kill Cain, and scoop out his eyes," he stabbed a potato for emphasis, and ate it, after chewing he added, "I'll destroy that bond they have." He picked up an apple slice, and bit it, "It's fake, real love doesn't exist, unconditional love is a lie." 

 

Cassian let out a small breath, his chest feeling oddly tight with feelings he did not want to name, he was grateful, at the very least, that Jizabel was eating. The childish man was important to him because feelings that should not exist, the existence of which is a sin, a disease, and can never be voiced. But, was not a lie, even if it would never be believed, and no matter what, he would protect this person because of those undying feelings. Sin didn't matter, he was already traveling the path to it, and he was already sick from birth. All that mattered, was the chance of freedom, even if his wings had been ripped off, if the cage was opened, his legs still worked, and maybe he would leave. 

 

 

..........................

 

 

"There wasn't any meat. Thank you."

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to my friends Graham and Cain for encouraging me while writing this, I really appreciate it. Formatting this story by writing the HTML myself was a pain in the ass, I hate mobile.


End file.
